Just Another Truth, Wright
by Blackwidina
Summary: Apollo's become like family to the Wrights, but a single phone call could ruin everything.  Or will it?  Third in my JustWright Universe.  Will be family/friendship/romance/angst/hurt/comfort-oh, why do they make us pick just two?
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to the latest installment of the JustWright series! ^_^ As always, I don't own any part of the Ace Apollo series, though it seems to have bought stock in me. This is yaoi, blatantly so, so don't say I didn't warn you! Oh, and there's a lot of tense abuse here; I apologize. Spoilers abound, of course.

Also, in this particular chapter, we're earning that M rating.

* * *

**Just Another Truth, Wright**

Apollo wasn't sure just what was going on, but between his bracelet trying to burrow under his skin, and Trucy looking so visibly green that he was afraid she might vomit from nerves, he felt like someone, somewhere was going to snap.

Neither of them had seen Phoenix like this. He wasn't even _trying_ to act like nothing was wrong.

It had all started with a phone call that morning. Apollo had answered to hear a heavily accented male voice informing him that there was an international call for a Mr. Phoenix Wright. He'd called Nick off the couch where he was "studying," and then tried to act casual as the man's tension level sky-rocketed within the first few seconds of the conversation.

After several "yes" and "no" answers, and a "that's fine" and "I won't," Apollo was ready to scream. Even with Phoenix's back to him, the man just _radiated_ discomfort.

Hanging up, Phoenix had stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, then set it down as if it were made of glass.

Trying not to be pushy, Apollo managed to ask, "Um . . . is everything all right, Mr. Wright?"

It was a sign of how bad things were that the man hadn't even smirked at the potential jokes. He'd just shaken his head, looking slightly dazed before his gaze had sharpened. "Polly, can I ask you to stay over tonight?"

_That_ was odd, as well. Phoenix had _never_ asked him to stay the night; it usually just happened. Usually, it was because the three of them had spent the evening together, made dinner, and finally, Trucy would announce that it was way too late at night for Apollo to be running around, and that he needed to sleep over.

Apollo wouldn't even call bullshit on the fact that both Phoenix and Trucy _both_ worked night jobs that required just that. When he was feeling honest with himself, he could admit that he liked staying with the Wrights. He _liked_ watching anime with Phoenix, or helping Trucy perfect her tricks, even if that just meant sitting outside her door while she practiced the "secret" parts in front of her mirror. He also enjoyed their dinners, where it was just the three of them, working together to make something edible from the few ingredients that would fit in the mini-fridge. He'd never known there were so many types of sandwiches before. He didn't even mind the Wrights' blatant overuse of puns—hell, he was just as bad as they were by now.

Having Trucy and Phoenix in his life . . . as strange as it was, he couldn't imagine being without them.

And seeing Phoenix upset like this was driving him _up the goddamn wall._

"Uh, yeah, sure, I'll stay. But what—"

Phoenix cut him off, "I'm heading out for a few hours. Make sure Trucy does her homework, if I'm not back."

"Wait, but—"

"Apollo." Phoenix was already at the door, facing away. "I know I can't lie to either of you, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Something's up, but it's not bad."

"Then why are you leaving?" Apollo had asked, feeling desperate. He moved from around the desk and stood a few inches from his boss' back, wanting to touch him, to turn him around make eye contact, at least.

Phoenix's head bowed, "Because . . . because there are more secrets I've been keeping."

"About what? A case?"

"No. About . . . other things." Phoenix did turn around then, though he wouldn't look Apollo in the eye, merely laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Polly, I can't talk about it—I promised. Not yet. Can you just wait till tomorrow morning?"

An idea was forming in Apollo's mind, "Is . . . is it _about_ me?"

". . . Just . . . wait, please. And let me have a few hours to myself, okay?"

"O—okay."

Moments later, Phoenix was gone.

* * *

It had been a rough afternoon for Apollo. Trucy had taken three steps in the door before dropping her school bag and asking if he was all right. He'd only been able to tell her about the phone call and Phoenix's hasty departure. Anything else, he reasoned, was pure conjecture.

They'd spent an hour going over Trucy's homework, and then she'd changed into her usual magician's getup (she insisted she couldn't concentrate on 'mundane' stuff unless she was in 'mundane' clothes,) and locked herself into her bedroom to work on a new conjuring trick.

Apollo had feigned an interest in paperwork for a while, but when Trucy came back out of her room, ready to perform, he'd gladly set everything aside.

They made a really good team, they'd discovered. Trucy would spend a lot of time in front of a mirror, trying to make sure the secrets to her tricks weren't apparent, but thanks to Apollo's bracelet, he could spot imperfections here and there. In fact, he could usually tell how a trick was done within a few showings, and that was what Trucy took advantage of.

By the time they'd worked out the errors in her posture, it was nearly dark out, and no Phoenix. So they'd started dinner, slapping together a healthy meal of grilled cheese and Snackoos and lounging on the couch.

That was when Phoenix finally came home.

If Trucy had thought he was perhaps exaggerating before, the sight of her daddy proved otherwise. Apollo grabbed her before she could leap off the couch, but he couldn't stop the girl from gasping, "_Daddy_! Are you okay?"

Phoenix shuffled further into the office, locking the door behind him. "I'm fine, Truce. I promise."

"But—!"

"Tomorrow, Trucy." Apollo cringed at the harsh tone almost as much as the tightness around his wrist.

The next couple hours were probably the most painfully awkward they'd ever spent together, sitting around watching Nickle Samurai episodes and trying to ignore the _really fucking tense elephant _in the room. At nine o'clock, Trucy excused herself to bed, glancing apologetically at Apollo.

"Good idea, Trucy," Phoenix muttered. "We'll need to get up early tomorrow."

_For WHAT?_ Apollo wanted to yell, but kept his silence somehow as he and Nick wordlessly folded out the hide-a-bed. Trucy brought out his pillow—and it was actually _his, _in recognition of how often he'd been staying over lately—from her room, and, to his surprise, gave him a big hug before retreating.

_Running away_, he thought uncharitably as he took his turn in the bathroom to rinse the gel out of his hair.

Sleeping with Phoenix was usually the strangest blend of awkward and comfortable. Apollo had thought his ultra-secret crush on the man would make things difficult—and sometimes it did, making it hard to fall asleep, particularly when he would be wrapped up in borrowed, too-big clothes, but he'd discovered that once he was asleep, his subconscious was perfectly okay with it. How, he wasn't sure, but no matter how far apart they started the night, they always ended up waking up in each others' arms, or flopped on top of each other, or even spooning like they'd been doing it for years.

And it wasn't _weird_. Not like it probably should have been.

Though, as his mind pointed out, it's not like either of them were particularly sharp first thing in the morning.

But when Phoenix crawled into bed that night, deliberately facing away so that Apollo couldn't see his face, he knew he had to do something _now._ Steeling himself, he moved closer cringing as the broad shoulders tensed at the weight shift.

"Apollo, don't."

The whisper might have stopped the Apollo of six months ago, when he'd first met his fallen hero, but not now, after such a long, stressful day. "Why won't you tell us anything?" he quietly asked.

"Because it's not my place to tell." Firm. End of Discussion.

Apollo sighed, and reached out, touching a shoulder, "Give me _something_, Nick. Did—did someone die? Is that why you're so upset?"

He didn't understand the choked laugh, but he had the unpleasant premonition that he might understand the humor later. "No, Polly, no one died."

"Is someone hurt?"

"Not physically. Just _drop_ it. You and Trucy will find out in the morning." Phoenix was getting angry, or maybe just frustrated.

"Phoenix—I just . . . don't tell me, then. I won't ask, I promise, but," he swallowed, nervous, "Just tell me how I can help. I'll do _anything_, just stop hurting or . . . being angry or whatever it is. Don't keep it all bottled up, it's affecting all of us. Let _some_ of it out." His arm was starting to tire, but he just gripped Phoenix tighter, angling his elbow a little to help relieve the lactic acid buildup.

There was a long pause before Phoenix slowly rolled over. Apollo tried not to wince at how weary he looked. Usually, without his hobo gear, he looked much younger than he was, but now Apollo could see stress lines pinching around his features.

To his shock, Phoenix slowly reached out and draped an arm around Apollo's waist, pulling the younger defense attorney closer. Apollo considered—for all of five seconds—either protesting or pulling back, just on principle. He'd grown up an orphan—physical contact just didn't _happen_, and when it did, it was usually a bad sign. It'd taken long enough to get used to Trucy's affectionate side, and he didn't have a crush on _her_.

Still, that little voice that was hopelessly in love with the man urged him to just relax and let it happen. '_After all'_, it coaxed, '_how often to we get to touch him while we're awake?'_

A good point, but then, listening to _that_ particular voice was nothing but trouble. As a sort of compromise, Apollo allowed himself to be drawn into Phoenix's arms, but rather than tuck his head under the man's chin (as usually happened by the time they woke up in the mornings,) he tilted his head back to where he could still see his face. "Ph-Phoenix?"

"Apollo . . . me and Trucy, how would you feel if we left you?"

Apollo felt like he'd just swallowed an ice cube. What did _that_ mean? _Were_ they leaving? Where were they going? _Why_ were they going? What had he done wrong? Was _that_ what was going on? If so, did Trucy know? Had she been acting before?

He tried to jerk back, but Phoenix's arms were tight around him. He tried to speak, but emotion swelled his throat shut—he could barely even _breathe, _much less speak. All he could do was stare at the other, searching his eyes for some sort of clue.

Meanwhile, his bracelet was still giving him fits.

Phoenix shook his head at Apollo's reaction. "No, no, we're not leaving. At least, _I'm_ not. But I'm afraid of losing Trucy. And you."

That made no sense. "Why would you?" he managed to say after a moment.

"I can't tell you. All I can really say is that, starting tomorrow, she might not need me anymore. And you . . . you never really did." Nick's brown eyes closed as he swallowed hard. When he opened them again, Apollo was dismayed to see wetness in them.

_Oh, God_, Apollo _knew_ this feeling. He'd felt it so often as a kid, every time one of the other children got adopted, every time another set of parents decided he wasn't the one for them. He wouldn't wish that loneliness on anyone.

Swallowing hard, he responded, with absolute sincerity, "Don't be an idiot, Phoenix. There's no way we could ever _not _need you. I don't care what happened, or who we're going to see, or what they're going to tell us. Trucy _needs_ you. You're her dad, remember? Zak Gramarye or Shadi Smith or whoever be damned." The bracelet nearly started cutting off circulation at that point, but he'd said he wouldn't ask. That didn't stop him from wondering if maybe they'd found some distant Gramarye relation that wanted to take Trucy. But . . . what would that have to do with _him_?

Still, that wasn't really the issue at hand. The kind of fear Phoenix was experiencing wasn't the kind of demon that you could defeat by logic alone. With that in mind, he slowly wrapped his arms around the older man, dropping his head to snuggle in. "Nick . . . she'll _always_ need you, and . . . and now that I know you, so will I."

That must have been exactly what he needed to hear, because his grip on Apollo became vise-like, and, unless Apollo was mistaken, there was a barely audible sniff. He kept his head down, because, hey, if Phoenix needed to cry, then Apollo needed to observe the Guy Rules and just act like it wasn't happening.

Some time passed, though he couldn't see a clock by which to gauge it. He'd nearly fallen asleep, actually, lulled by the amount of body heat Phoenix was giving off, when he was jolted by an enormous breath and a shift in the larger man's body. Since the shaking had stopped, Apollo figured Phoenix was done weeping—er, whatever term was permissible for manly tears—so he pulled back a little so he could see him.

The combination of moonlight and streetlight through the office windows cast everything into sharp contrast, but the angle was just right that he could see Phoenix's face, and just how much that release had done for him. He still looked pretty haggard, which was only expected after a good cry, but he didn't look like he was going to snap from the tension any minute.

"How are you feeling?" Apollo asked softly, still feeling half-asleep.

Phoenix gave a wan imitation of a smile, "Better. I think. Really tired, though."

"Yeah, that usually happens, after," he replied politely.

"I know. I was a crybaby back when I was in school. And college. And hell, after getting disbarred, I bawled for _hours _after getting home_."_

Apollo stifled a laugh. "Phoenix, you just completely broke the Guy Code. In fact, it's so broken, I think it's going to sue. What next, pink sweaters?"

"Pink is a perfectly acceptable . . . you know what? I'm not going to argue with you on that one. But, well, if I'm not breaking it myself, I'm encouraging others to. Technically, I don't think snuggling is supported under the Code, either." He gave Apollo a little squeeze in emphasis.

Oh God, he'd completely forgotten. . . or at least, stopped being so self-conscious about it, until now. Apollo could feel his face flushing. Hell, he could even feel his neck heating up. "Yeah, well, I won't tell if you won't."

"Oh really?" Phoenix smirked a little, but not in his usual derisive way. "Well then, in for a penny, in for a pound." And before Apollo could think or protest, or even decide if he _wanted_ to protest, he was being kissed on the forehead. "Klavier Gavin's right. This noggin of yours is hiding some pretty impressive smarts. Thank you."

Apollo couldn't move; even his lungs felt paralyzed_._ There were about three trains of thought warring for track space inside his head. One was screaming at him not to do _anything_, because what he wanted to do _wasn't the sort of thing friends did_, and Phoenix was just thanking him. The other was telling him that they'd never been so close before, that he should take a leap, _what was the worst that could happen?_ The third, the voice that had haunted him—_still_ haunted him on lonely nights—told him the worst would be that he could lose Phoenix altogether, that if Phoenix _knew_, he'd start pulling away, leave him alone, and Apollo just couldn't take that sort of rejection again . . .

He wasn't sure what was going on with his expression, but he could see the confusion on the other's face, tinged with a little worry. There was a touch of irony, there, in that they'd switched roles.

After a few more seconds, Nick looked even more worried, "Polly? What's wrong? Did I—"

Three trains screeched to a halt at the same time Apollo leaned up and pressed his lips firmly to Phoenix's.

He had just about enough time to note that stubble most certainly did _not _tickle, and was indeed quite scratchy, before the other recovered from his surprise. Apollo braced himself to be pushed away, but instead found himself being kissed back.

It was obvious from the first that Apollo wasn't very experienced, so he gladly gave up control to the other, letting Phoenix slowly coax his mouth open. The adrenaline spike made Apollo feel light-headed, and all he could think was, _Oh my god, I'm making out with Phoenix Wright!_

Actually, no. Even better. This wasn't Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney; this was Phoenix, the poker player and piano abuser. The same man who gave him forged evidence in his very first trial, that had sent him hunting panty snatchers and noodle wagon thieves. The same guy who drank a crate of grape juice a day, wore the most eye-blindingly blue beanie in creation, made a mean grilled ham and cheese sandwich, and had Steel Samurai tucked under the edge of the couch like most men hid porn.

Apollo couldn't help it; his thoughts were so random that he smiled against Nick's mouth, making the man pull away in curiosity, panting slightly. His eyes held a spark that they'd lacked for a while, "Something funny, Mr. Justice?"

The smile split into a grin, and he replied flippantly, "Sorry, Mr. Wright, I was just wondering how many bowls of noodles you had. I'd recognize that salt-lick and chicken taste anywhere."

Phoenix laughed softly, "Are you telling me I should I go brush my teeth?"

Apollo, still feeling pretty brave, slid an arm around the other's waist, "Don't you dare."

"Fine then. Smell my noodle-y breath all night."

"I was planning to." He tilted his head up again, and this time, Phoenix met him halfway.

They lay like that for several minutes, just exploring each other. Apollo might not have noticed if it weren't for his bracelet, but Phoenix was used to kissing a certain way, so he kept having to adapt. He actually felt quite pleased by the idea that he was overriding whatever habits the man might have formed with his previous lovers.

By the time they had to stop for air, Phoenix had pushed Apollo onto his back and was running his hands up the smaller man's shirt. Apollo, glad that their lower halves weren't pressed together, because _damn_ he was hard, found himself running his fingers through surprisingly soft spikes. Phoenix sniggered in his ear, "What is it with you and my hair?" He gently ran his tongue over the rim, making Apollo shiver.

"I like _you,_ Phoenix," he corrected, "Your hair's just a bonus." He gave his handful a little tug, which actually got a tiny moan out of the man. Phoenix retaliated by moving his hands higher under his shirt until he could trace Apollo's nipples, making him gasp and wiggle a little, before pulling the shirt over his head completely.

As Apollo turned flushed from a mix of arousal and shyness, Nick looked extraordinarily pleased, "I wondered how far that blush went." His fingertips trailed over Apollo's collarbone and down his chest.

"Sh-shut up!" Honestly, Apollo was amazed he could spare the blood. His cock was so hard, he felt like it might actually shatter if either of them touched it—and wouldn't _that_ be humiliating. Lust was warring with his usual timidity—he wanted to touch, to kiss, to do all of the things he'd never allowed himself to do before, but he was terribly afraid of being laughed at for his fumbling. Or worse, pitied for getting to be as old as twenty-four without ever-"

"Apollo. Stop."

Phoenix's firm, but still kind voice jolted him out of his self-doubting monologue, and he found himself looking into serious brown eyes. Oh god, had he just blanked out? For how long?

"Apollo, I can hear you thinking at this point," Phoenix said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "It's okay, you know. We all have to start somewhere."

He was going to die, and not in a good way. "Uh . . . is it that obvious?" he asked, mortified beyond belief.

"I can't lie to you, so yes, it is." Apollo groaned and tried to bury his head in Phoenix's chest, but the man would have none of it. Grabbing Apollo's chin, he lifted it so they were eye to eye. "But, that also means I can honestly say it doesn't matter. It's _you _I like. And I won't push you, promise.

"I—I might need a push, Nick," he whispered. "I'm not really good at taking the initiative."

A warm chuckle, "I don't know about that. I seem to recall that _you_ were the one that kissed _me._"

"Yeah, well . . . you needed it." _Did I really just say something that corny?_

"Oh, I _needed_ it, did I?"

_Yeah, I really did._ "I—I mean, uh—mmph!" Apollo's linguistic fail was halted by another kiss, this one fueled by a hunger that sent shivers down his spine. Phoenix slowly shifted them again,sliding his leg between Apollo's, swallowing the desperate moan.

Phoenix hushed him, "Trucy's sleeping, remember? Unless you _want_ her to hear you?"

Apollo's mouth clamped shut so fast he nearly bit his tongue.

"Good. Now, back to things I _need_," snickering softly, Phoenix started running his hands lower, gently tickling along Apollo's sides, making him squirm. Apollo tugged at the other's t-shirt, pulling it over his head. After Phoenix tossed the shirt to the side, he came back for another kiss, and Apollo could appreciate the feel of skin on skin. He wriggled a little, then had to bite back a groan when his groin came in contact with Phoenix's thigh.

Phoenix's lips moved to latch onto Apollo's neck, while one of those large, warm hands reached down to grip his hip, encouraging him to move. The sensation was so delicious that he was unable to keep completely quiet, little whimpers escaping. He bucked against Phoenix, feeling the coiling tension in his abdomen wind up, embarrassingly fast. "W-wait," he whispered frantically, "I'll—I'm gonna . . ."

"That's the point," he smirked back, but pulled back a little, just enough to slide his hand down inside Apollo's sleep pants and pull out his erection.

Apollo made a desperate sound in the back of his throat, his hips coming up involuntarily. When Phoenix started kissing his way down Apollo's body, he jammed the fleshy part of his thumb into his mouth, because he had a feeling he was about to get a whole lot louder.

Phoenix's mouth trailed fire down Apollo's body, his stubble scraping and making everything hyper-sensitive. One hand leisurely stroked his erection, while he balanced over Apollo's body with the other. He bit playfully just above his bellybutton, then looked up, "Is this still okay, Polly?"

Afraid to remove the hand still muffling him, all Apollo could do was nod. _Emphatically_.

He was fine! Really. He wasn't sure he was coherent enough to _spell_ it, but that didn't matter in the least when Phoenix was shifting lower, when his breath was ghosting over his erection-

Then he felt those lips, the same ones he'd found himself staring at dreamily from across the office, finally _wrapped themselves around his cock-_

He couldn't help the reflexive string of curse words that left his mouth, luckily muffled, but he could tell from the amused snort down below that Phoenix wasn't fooled. But _oh God_, he'd never thought anything could feel _this fucking good._

Naturally, it didn't take long before Apollo hit his peak, trying to get out a warning only to be ignored. It took all of his control not to scream his release, it felt that good, and the effort left him panting hard afterward. Phoenix, looking damnably pleased with himself, slithered back up Apollo's body. Apollo, for his part, quickly pulled the man into a kiss, leisurely enjoying the feel of Phoenix's chest and stomach under his wandering hands.

Yeah, he could die happy _right now_.

Phoenix whimpered a little as the kiss deepened, and Apollo could feel the evidence of the other's desire brushing against him. Wanting to return the favor, he slid his his hand further and wrapped it around Phoenix's erection, his thumb spreading the wetness he found at the tip.

Phoenix pulled back from the kiss with a gasp, "_Ahh-Apollo . . ._"

Blushing hard, the younger man whispered, "I—I want to . . ."

Phoenix thrust into Apollo's hand, a quiet, but desperate moan escaping his throat, "J—Just like that, please, ohgod, 'm so _close . . ._"

Apollo sped up his hand, trying to mimic how he touched himself. The look on the older man's face was breathtaking: eyes wide, pupils blown, flushed with arousal, his mouth open slightly and emitting breathy groans. If he hadn't just come, Apollo was sure that he'd be hard again from just the _sounds_. As it was, he couldn't help but shiver as he sent his other hand roaming over Phoenix's chest. His shyness forgotten, he sped up his ministrations, prompting another jerk of hips, another wonderfully delicious series of sounds. Phoenix's head dropped, his forehead pressing against Apollo's, eyes scrunched shut.

"Apollo, ohGod, _ohGod, _I'mgonnacum!" Phoenix's hand was suddenly clenched on Apollo's arm, fingers digging in as he gave another buck, this one causing the slick head of his cock to slide up against Apollo's lower stomach, and suddenly, Phoenix _was_ coming, all over Apollo's hand and abdomen, and making this low, keening sound as his head arched back, exposing his throat.

Apollo had never seen anything so amazing.

After several seconds, Phoenix slowly started to wind down, dark eyes opening. Apollo couldn't help but grin at the lazy, sated look in the other's eyes. He released the older man and brought his hand up. He studied the cum smeared on it for a second before giving a mental shrug and bringing it to his mouth, licking it clean. Not the greatest flavor ever, but not as bad as he'd been led to believe.

Phoenix made an interested sound, and the next thing Apollo know, he was being kissed again, deeply. The older man pulled back, "Do you have any idea how ridiculously hot you are, Apollo?"

Apollo felt himself blushing furiously, "I—uh, I—but . . ."

"Yeah, _just_ like that. Don't ever change." A long arm reached over Apollo to the box of tissue on the side table, and the rest of their mutual mess was attended to before the two of them snuggled up together under the covers. Phoenix was surprisingly tactile, post-coitus, running fingers through Apollo's hair, playing with his bangs, gently running down his jaw.

Apollo felt the exhaustion—of both the day and their recent activities—catching up to him. With a content sigh, he slid an arm around the other man's waist. He closed his eyes, ready to just let sleep take him away.

"Apollo," Phoenix whispered.

He grunted to show he was listening.

"Thank you."

Apollo gave him a little squeeze, mumbling, "Told you. Need you."

The last thing he heard before falling asleep was a very quiet, "I'm glad."

* * *

A/N:Finally! I'm so happy! I worked on this for ages, trying to get it right. _ I hope it was up to everyone's expectations.

There's also a bit of fanart that I made for this story—it's on my deviantART account at: http : / / blackwidina. Deviantart. Com /# / d3ai9at Just take out the spaces!

Thank you to everyone who's read and especially those who've reviewed. I'm so happy every time I meet a fellow fan of the pairing—and even moreso when I meet those who didn't like them until now. I haven't had this much fun writing in a long time.

Doumo! ~Dina


	2. Chapter 2

Apollo just stared in silent shock at the woman before him—as Lamiror, he'd felt that he'd known her. As _Thalassa_ . . .

Now unfortunately, Apollo had a hell of a temper; he'd struggled to control it for years, and, between his law professors and Kristoph Gavin's guidance, learned to eventually channel the intensity of his feelings into his courtroom stance. Every objection held the weight of his stronger emotions: anger, frustration, whatever. This wasn't a courtroom, however, and he wanted nothing more than to start yelling, maybe even screaming and throwing things. Maybe treat her to some of the childhood tantrums she'd missed out on.

But for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to unleash on this woman. He _wanted_ to. Oh, he wanted to. But he knew, deep down, that what he was feeling wasn't the sort of thing that should be used against others. It was an extreme twist of irony that he could almost hear Mr. Gavin's voice reminding him that giving way to his anger would serve him little purpose, and could irreparably ruin something precious.

She'd finished speaking, and was looking at him with eyes that he'd thought so beautiful once, despite their tragic blindness. Now they were cured, and the process that had restored her vision had helped return her memory.

He couldn't stand the sight of them.

"Apollo?" That sweet voice, laden with sorrow, did nothing to quell the burning, churning anger that had settled in his chest. "Apollo, I—I know this is sudden, but . . .you must believe me. I swear, what I tell you is the truth."

He already _knew_ she wasn't lying. He'd known from the moment she'd shown him her matching bracelet. He'd known from the moment he'd looked, really _looked_ between her uncovered face and Trucy's. He'd been running the dates, the facts, through his mind as she'd spoken of accidents and first husbands and _he didn't want to listen anymore._

The molten core in his chest was threatening to boil over, out of his throat, and damn it, he knew better than to say something he would regret—and he just _couldn't_ lose it in front of Trucy—his _sister, his half-sister, how long had Phoenix known?-_and he moved without thought. Leaving them both there, he left the hotel suite they'd been brought to, and took the stairs, all twelve floors' worth. By the time he'd hit the bottom, he was winded, but still so, so angry.

Luckily, he didn't have far to go. After all, the Gatewater Hotel and Wright Talent Agency were long-time neighbors.

He stormed through the front door, nearly knocking the 'Closed' sign off it's little hook, and stomped over to the mini kitchen. At the sink, he blasted his arm with cold water until his precious bracelet loosened, then took the loop of metal and just held it for a moment, thinking about what it had meant to him over the years.

He didn't even want to look at it.

The familiar sound of a glass bottle being set on the floor made him glance up. Phoenix sat huddled on the couch, staring down at his hands, his hobo gear looking like the emotional wall they represented. Apollo noted that the bottle in the man's possession was most definitely _not_ grape juice, and before he could reign it in, he snapped, "I thought you said the grape juice was to keep you from drinking."

Phoenix didn't even look up, "It's just one. I'm allowed on special occasions. And judging by how you look right now, I've fucked up pretty badly."

"I'm _fine_!" Apollo yelled, slamming a hand down. Struggling to lower his voice, he followed with, "And I'm not mad at you." Chucking his bracelet down on the counter, not caring if the metal got scratched, he leaned over so that he could rest his head in his hands, struggling to get his breathing to slow down. As upset as he was, he didn't want to take it out on Phoenix, either.

About five deep breaths later, there was a hesitant hand on his elbow. "Apollo," the quiet voice began, "I'm so sorry. I should have told you, promise or no." There was hurt there, and regret, and Apollo was suddenly seeing red again because S_he'd made Phoenix feel that way._

He reached out and grabbed a handful of hoodie around Phoenix's middle. He glared at the man. "I'm not mad at _you_, Nick. _You_ didn't do anything wrong!" His voice was steadily getting louder.

"Apollo—"

"Dammit, Nick, I'm mad at _her_," he ground out, that ugly feeling in his chest reaching the bursting point. "She _gave me away,_ Phoenix! She didn't want me! I spent my whole life, wondering who my parents were, and what they looked like, and—and just _why _they got rid of me!"

Phoenix looked a bit horrified, "Apollo, I'm _sure_ that's not what-"

"I was _a year old_, Nick, and she just sent me to an orphanage after my dad died and went back to the troupe, like I was another piece of unwanted baggage-" his voice broke then, and he realized that he was crying, that he'd _been_ crying. While he'd been flashing back to all those years at the orphanage, of being alone, of wondering, his vision had blurred with tears.

The moment he fell silent, Phoenix's took the last step and wrapped his arms around Apollo, holding him tight. Apollo finally allowed himself to let it out, hiccup-y sobs shaking his smaller frame. Phoenix moved them to the couch, sitting them down and gently stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. He even rocked Apollo a little, like a child.

When Apollo finally calmed down enough to be aware of his surroundings, he was unsurprised to hear Phoenix whispering soothing words in his ear. He took an unsteady breath, and another. He felt awful: his head was pounding, his eyes burned, and his nose was somehow both stuffed up and running.

Phoenix pulled back, looking a little worried, "Hey, Apollo, will you be okay for the next couple of minutes?"

That wasn't what he'd expected, "Huh?"

A kiss was laid on his forehead, "I'm worried about Trucy. I'm going to go get her."

Apollo's brain kicked back into gear, and then promptly made him feel like the world's biggest ass. "Oh, _god_, Nick, I just ran out of there; she was sitting there with me, but I didn't even—"

"It's _okay_, Polly, I understand. And she's probably fine—trust me, there's no way to keep that girl contained if she doesn't want to be. I just need to go make sure she's okay. I'll be right back; I promise."

"Yeah, sure." Apollo nodded and untangled himself from the other. "I'll just-"

"You'll just nothing." Suddenly, serious Phoenix was back, and he grabbed Apollo's legs and gave him a tug so that he fell back on the couch. A blanket was snagged and laid across him. "You stay right there. I'll rescue Trucy, if . . . she needs me to."

The pause caught Apollo's attention, and he grabbed Phoenix's hand. "She needs you. Remember that. Even if she doesn't need you right _this_ second, she still needs you."

A peculiar expression crossed the older man's face then, and suddenly he was on his knees beside the couch, leaning over to kiss Apollo's mouth. "Thank you." A moment later, he was gone.

Apollo just lay still and tried very, very hard not to think. Instead, he looked at the clock on the wall, silently counting the seconds that ticked by.

Apollo must have dozed off a little from exhaustion, because he woke up when the door gave its little jingle. He sat up in alarm as Trucy walked in, her shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on the floor. "Oh, Trucy, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—_uff_!" Trucy had looked up at the sound of his voice, and Apollo had suddenly found his arms and lap full of teenaged girl.

Her voice was muffled in his shoulder, but he could just make out the words as she started crying. "I'm so sorry, Polly! I really am!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait, what are you sorry for, Truce?" Trying to be casual about it, he gave her a gentle shove so that she was off of his legs and sitting more or less beside him, hat safely on the side table. A moment later, Phoenix had finished locking the door and came to sit on Trucy's other side, snagging the Kleenex box as well.

Trucy grabbed one, and furiously wiped at her face, "I—I just . . . Oh, Polly, I got so _mad_, I should have followed you after you went out the door, but I just _had _to tell her what I thought and—and!" She blew her nose loudly, and burst into fresh tears. This time, thankfully, she turned and grabbed onto her Daddy, who was a lot more used to emotional females than Apollo was.

The younger man felt slightly dazed, "Wait, you _yelled _at her?"

"She did." Phoenix sounded slightly amused, "I got there as fast as I could, expecting her to be as upset as you were, and instead I find her in a shouting match with Thalassa."

There was a loud sniff, and Trucy pushed away, looking indignant. "She deserved it! She gave away my—my brother! And then, when she got her memories back, she didn't even come right back! Why did she wait? Didn't she—didn't she want to see me?" Her voice kept getting quieter, but for the first time, Apollo could hear years' worth of pain—pain she usually hid so well with her winning smile and eternal optimism—etched in every syllable. "It's just like Daddy. He went away, too, and when he came back . . . he—he didn't come to see me, either." She looked at Apollo. "I'm so sorry for what she did."

Apollo reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it a little. "It's not _your_ fault, Trucy."

"I know, but . . . what if she didn't go back for you because she had me?" Her voice was both ashamed and fearful.

"I thought of that, too, but . . . but still. That was her ch-choice," he let go of her and rubbed at his eyes, angry at himself for crying in front of her. "But she's still . . . she's your mom. You remember her, so-"

Suddenly, there was a sharp burst of pain as a gloved hand gripped both of his hair spikes and yanked. "So _nothing_. As far as I'm concerned, I've been an orphan since I was eight."

"Trucy . . ." This was from Phoenix, who looked genuinely shocked at her statement.

She punched him lightly on the chest. "_You_ hush. I know Daddy said he'd come back, but I stopped believing a long time ago. You're my daddy now, and I love you. And Apollo was like my brother long before today. I don't need her."

It was worth all the heartache they'd been through that day to see the look on Phoenix's face—a man who'd just received vindication. "I . . . I know it's wrong of me, but I'm so glad to have you two." His arms wrapped around Trucy, and he hugged her tight.

The sight warmed Apollo's heart, and he found himself smiling in spite of himself. Then he found himself blushing as Phoenix looked at him with such a warm, caring look in his eyes that he felt like he was being held as well. Suddenly feeling like he needed something to do, he grabbed one of Phoenix's grape juice bottles from beside the couch—making sure, of course, that it _was_ grape juice this time—and took a long pull.

Trucy caught sight of his flush and abruptly sat up on Phoenix's lap, nearly knocking her head into the man's nose, "Which reminds me—what part of getting me a new mommy involves sleeping with my brother?"

Apollo did a _spectacular_ spit take, which had the other two laughing at his expense.

Phoenix, to his credit, had a slight flush of his own, even as he teased, "Oh, come on, Trucy. He's not a bad choice. He cooks, he knows how to work an iron-"

"Phoenix Wright . . ." Apollo growled.

"Ooh, and hear that scary tone!" Trucy giggled, "With a little practice, I bet he'd have a great 'mom' voice!" 

"_Trucy_!"

"Yeah, just like that!"

Apollo groaned and hid his face with his hands, "Everything's a joke with you guys." His cheeks felt like they were on fire.

There was the sound of people shifting, and he was suddenly surrounded, Trucy on his right and Phoenix on his left. Both were close enough that they were touching him, which was usually enough to make Apollo uncomfortable anyway, but when they both wrapped him up in a hug, he thought he might just die of nerves. "Trucy! Mr. Wright!"

Phoenix snickered, "Oh, so we're all the way back to Mr. Wright, are we?"

"Oh, Daddy, he's just letting you know that you're _his_ Mr. Wright!"

"Oh god, please, stop the puns. I'll do anything!" But he couldn't keep from laughing a little. He'd deny it to his dying breath, but he loved their stupid jokes. "All right, my personal bubble is being violated! Let me go!"

"Only if you stop hiding, Polly!" Trucy replied.

Sighing in defeat, he dropped his hands, and the others did their part, scooting just far enough away that he could be comfortable. "All right, so . . . what do we do now?"

Trucy's grin faded, and she slumped back on her side of the couch. "About what?" Her sullen tone belied her attempt at ignorance. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, making her look very much like a moody fifteen year old.

Apollo sighed. "Trucy, she did come all the way out here."

"A few years too late."

Phoenix sighed heavily, "Truce, she's had _amnesia_."

"Daddy, once _you_ had amnesia. And you still went to court. And won."

For a moment, Apollo couldn't resist grinning like the big law nerd he was. He'd read the court record on that case, and it had inspired him with the sheer amount of awesome involved.

"Losing a couple of days is nothing to losing several years. And she _wanted_ to tell you both, but she just . . . needed to work some things out, first."

"Like Daddy did?" The acid was unmistakable. "_He_ came back and the first thing he wanted to do was ruin your poker career. Which was helping keep a roof over my goddamn head."

"TRUCY! Watch your language!" Apollo snapped.

"Yes, Mommy." She even had the audacity to roll her eyes at him.

Phoenix sighed gustily, interrupting what promised to be a promising spat. "Well, I guess the next thing I need to do is go back up there and talk to Thalassa. I'm sure she's pretty upset."

Apollo winced, "Yeah . . ."

"And the two of _you_ need to prepare yourselves, because you're going to go talk to her."

They both tensed, sharing troubled glances, previous annoyances forgotten.

"Why?" Trucy argued, "I don't want to see her!" Apollo nodded in agreement.

"You may not now, but you might later. And you should. If this had gone the other way, I'd hope you and Apollo would have come to me before jetting off to Borginia."

Apollo felt his spikes wilt in defeat, "You're right-"

"Of course I am-"

"Oh, _dammit_, Phoenix, you're _correct, _you idiot! But I don't even know what I would say to her after running out like I did. I mean, she explained, she apologized, and I . . . I don't accept. I can't. Not right now. Maybe someday, but not right now." Apollo shook his head, trying to will away the lump that was making its reappearance in his throat.

Trucy looked sheepish, "And I can't go back, after the things I said to her."

"Yes, you can, and you will." They both looked up at the sound of Phoenix's voice. He had the same look on his face that he'd had when he'd told Trucy to leave Zak's will unopened. "If you think _you're_ embarrassed to show up after a little tantrum, how do you think Thalassa feels, showing up after all of _this_?" He looked at the both of them in turn. "It's hard to say you're sorry, especially if you're not feeling apologetic at the moment, but it needs to be done."

He stood abruptly. "I'm going over there now, and I'm going to tell her you're both here at the office. I want you two to go back and see her by the end of the day, even if it's just to apologize. Understood?"

They nodded reluctantly.

Phoenix's eyes finally softened. "Some things in life are really hard to accept, but the important thing is to keep your head high, even when the sky is falling." And with that, he walked out the door, looking for all the world like he was about to stroll into a trial that he had no chance of losing.

Apollo watched him go, remembering exactly why he'd thought Phoenix Wright was the coolest guy on the face of the planet. "You know, if I hadn't already fallen head over heels with your him, I think I'd ask him to adopt me."

Trucy giggled. "He _is_ pretty cool sometimes."

"I hope he goes back to normal soon, or I'll be acting like a lovestruck fanboy all the time."

"And to think, you thought he was such a jerk when you first came to work for him."

"He's still a jerk." Coming back to himself a little, he shyly glanced over at Trucy. "So . . . you don't mind? I mean, me and your dad?"

The grin nearly split her face in half, "No way! When I woke up this morning and saw you two cuddled up on the couch, it was the cutest thing I'd ever seen!"

Apollo could feel himself starting to blush. "We—we always end up like that by morning, but you've never said anything before. What made you think . . . that we . . . uh, this time?"

With a decidedly evil grin, Trucy leaned in conspiratorially, "I"m not deaf, you know, Mr. Chords of Steel."

Apollo had to hide his face in his hands again.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'd just like to point out at this point that any time I bring up Apollo's father, this is who I have in mind: megalomaniacalme pwmusical/ viewtopic. php?f=15&t=1248

For those too lazy to read, it's this really well thought out theory that Apollo's father is Damon Gant. Trust me; the evidence piles up to the point that it's creepy. And it's exactly the sort of plot twist that the Ace Attorney people love to give us. Because it's easier to bring back old(bag) characters than bother making new ones.

And yes, to those of you who are already familiar with the theory, that's why I slid in that line about Apollo not liking to swim. _ There's also a PWM reference in here.

On to the fic:

* * *

Just Another Truth, Wright

Chapter Three

After all the excitement, Apollo and Trucy couldn't bring themselves to do more than just lean back on the couch and just let it all soak in. It was like the emotional adrenaline rush had finally faded, leaving them completely wiped out.

"Can you really believe we're half-siblings?" Trucy yawned. "I mean, it's not a bad thing. I meant it when I said I already thought of you like a brother, but . . ."

"But it's not the same as actually _being_ your brother, is it?" he replied sympathetically. "I feel the same way. I'm glad, but it's still kind of weird. Though . . . I guess it makes sense, looking back. I mean, we both have the same . . . ability, or whatever you want to call it."

"That's true," she mused. "It _was_ an awfully big coincidence."

"And really, without knowing that . . . that our m-mother survived being shot, there was no way to connect those dots." He shrugged, then glanced up at the clock. "Wow. Amazing how time flies when you're having a fit. I didn't think we'd been here this long."

"Yeah. I wonder what she's thinking right now . . ." Trucy looked a little guilty. "I said some really mean things."

Apollo couldn't help but smile a little. "Looks like we both have the same temper. That's why I left, so I _wouldn't_ say anything."

"Maybe I should try that next time." Trucy sighed, and adjusted her cloak. She fingered the diamond broach that clasped it together. "I . . . I almost wish I wasn't a Gramarye."

Apollo bolted upright on the couch, "Trucy, don't say that! The Gramarye legacy is yours, and you _know_ you deserve it! You didn't do like Valant and just wait around for Magnifi and your dad's inheritance to roll around—you've spent all these years becoming a great magician all by yourself!"

A small grin played around Trucy's lips. "You think I'm a great magician, huh?" Her tone was teasing.

"You know you are. You've been wowing the crowds since you were a kid, and you're always studying to get better. I know how hard you work. I know you won't just ride the Gramarye coattails."

Trucy looked happier than he'd seen her all day. "Thanks, Polly!" She leaned forward and Apollo found himself in a hug. For once, he let himself relax into it, even hugging her back. When she pulled back, there was a confused look on her face, and she grabbed his left wrist. "Polly, where's your bracelet?"

"On the counter. I was so mad, I took it off."

"You're not going to throw it away, are you?"

"Probably not. I'm just ticked off; not stupid. Even as much as all of this hurts, it's just another truth. And the truth is _always_ better than a lie, I think."

"Even when your client keeps saying stupid stuff on the stand?"

"Hey, if my client's innocent, it's the _other_ testimony that's fiction."

They sat in silence for a little while longer, Trucy even closing her eyes like she was ready to take a nap. They were so tired that when the door slammed open, they both jumped a mile high.

Phoenix stood there, looking upset and panting like he'd just run a mile. "Guys, she's left!"

"Left?" repeated Apollo.

"As in checked out and left for the airport. I spent probably twenty minutes banging on the door before I thought to check downstairs. She's going to leave!"

"So what else is new?" Trucy replied waspishly

Apollo nudged her ribs, "Trucy, she's leaving because she's upset! We . . . we probably really hurt her feelings." He felt a wave of shame sweep over him.

"You _did_, Polly," Phoenix looked grim, "Imagine being in her place, worrying about how all this is going to end. She pretty much got handed the worst possible scenario. I'd want to go home, too."

"Oh." Trucy's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I didn't even think . . . Daddy, what do we do?"

Phoenix kind of gave her a Look, then stood with his hands jammed in his pockets. "Funny, I thought we'd gone over this."

"Phoenix, do you really think just apologizing will fix this?" Apollo pointed out, "I mean, guilt aside, we're both still pretty pi—er, angry about all of this."

"Are you really ready to announce her guilty verdict before you've heard the whole truth?"

"Dammit, this isn't a trial!"

"Isn't it? You believed in my innocence, despite all the evidence pointing at me, and even though I wouldn't tell you my side of things. It's part of the job, Apollo. Besides," and here he made sure to look at them both in turn, "do you really believe that I would have let her contact you, if I thought she was as awful as you two think?"

Apollo could feel his spikes wilting. Dammit, the man was right. And with an aside glance at Trucy, he could tell, bracelet or not, that she felt the same. "So . . . what, we follow and apologize? And then?"

"And then maybe we can get an extension of the trial."

He sighed, before moving to the desk to grab his bracelet, "You can stop with the court metaphors, Nick. We're not even open today."

"Hey, if the metaphor works, it's-"

"Don't even finish that. I'm calling a cab right now, you loon."

"Oh, so I'm Wright now? What happened to Nick?"

"_Goddammit, Phoenix!_"

* * *

Fifty minutes later, the trio rushed into the local airport, all praying that Thalassa had experienced similar traffic conditions. For a moment, Apollo and Trucy were a little bewildered by the vast madhouse of activity they'd entered, but Phoenix looked like a pro. Within minutes, he'd found out the gate that the next Borginian flight was leaving from, and led them at a brisk pace through security, and then into the airport proper.

"Oh, God, this place is freaking huge!" Apollo gasped. Throngs of people in various states of anxiety swirled around them, making him wish he'd left off his bracelet instead of putting it back on. He could feel himself break into a sweat—he'd never liked crowds, even though he'd lived in L.A. all his life.

"Shit!" Phoenix cursed, spying the crowds near the gate. "We'll never be able to find her in all this. Not in time, anyway."

"Daddy, look!" Trucy pointed to an elevated walkway. "If we got up there, we could probably see better!"

"Good thinking, Truce!" Grabbing them both by the arms, he steered them towards the stairs that let up to the walkway. Luckily, it wasn't as crowded as below, so they were able to find good vantage points at the railing.

Apollo swept his gaze through the crowds, thinking, _'Dammit, I wish she still dressed like Lamiroir. That would be easy to spot, but no, she had to wear nice, casual clothes so that she looks like _every-freaking-body else!_' _"Do you guys see her? I've seen Where's Waldo books easier than this!"

"There she is!" Trucy shrieked. Phoenix and Apollo quickly followed her pointing finger, squinting to differentiate one slim brunette from the masses. "Look! She's heading towards the gate—they must be boarding!"

Phoenix slammed his hands down on the railing in frustration. "We'll never get to her in time!"

Trucy grabbed Apollo's left hand, "_Polly!"_

And suddenly, there it was—the existential moment, where he suddenly felt like his entire life had been leading up to _this one single purpose_. Pulling back on the railing for leverage, Apollo sucked in enough air that it made him light-headed, then pulled everything he had from his diaphragm:

"_**THALASSA!"**_

From his position, he could see her stop and turn to look at him. Along with everyone else in the airport. He felt himself wilting.

_'Okay, life's purpose served. Could the earth just swallow me up now?'_

In his perepheral vision, he could see Trucy and Phoenix both dropping their hands from where they'd had them clapped over their ears, but he was too concerned with overcoming his personal humiliation to try and do anything. Luckily, a moment later, Trucy took over, jumping up and down and yelling "_Wait! Don't leave yet! We're sorry!_"

"Excuse me, but you're creating a disturbance-" started up a strange voice, and Apollo was appalled to see a police officer glaring down at the two of them.

"Oh, they're with me!" Phoenix jumped in, giving a sheepish grin. He nervously scratched at the back of his head, in a pose Apollo had seen a million times in the old court records. "Their mother forgot something and we were just trying to catch her before she got on the plane!"

The cop seemed less than impressed with Phoenix, and Apollo had a thought that it probably wasn't smart to walk into an American airport looking like a hobo and causing a ruckus. Straightening and trying to look respectable (thank god he'd started keeping a spare suit at the agency), Apollo jumped in. "I apologize for my disruption, officer, but-"

"Oh, son, you're not in trouble," the officer broke in, still eyeing Phoenix. "I'm just giving a warning. Sir," this to Phoenix, "You need to make sure you keep your children under control, especially in this day and age. There's a lot of trouble these kids could run into."

Wait . . . what?

Apollo blinked, then stared as the cop ambled off. _'Son? Your children? How old does he think I am? And Phoenix, as my . . . what the . . . I mean, I know I'm a little below average height, but-'_

"It's the baby face," Phoenix supplied helpfully, correctly guessing the reason behind Apollo's poleaxed expression.

He glared, "You're lucky I can't kill you right now."

"You can't kill me anyway. Who'd defend you?"

"Fuck you, _Dad_."

* * *

In a horrible sense of deja vu, Apollo again found himself standing and staring at his mother from the couch. The first big difference was that this time, it was Phoenix' couch, and they were in the Wright Anything Agency. The second big difference was that rather than awkward silences and explanations, Thalassa and Trucy were . . . sort of bonding. Over magic equipment. As in, Thalassa had taken one look around the Agency and promptly broken out of her shyness and started yammering on about how she remembered all of these tricks and asking if Trucy used them in her shows.

Now the two girls were talking shop, while Apollo just sat there, trying to decide if he was happy or jealous.

Phoenix slid onto the other end of the couch, handing him a bottle of apple juice from the fridge. "You okay?" he whispered.

Apollo shrugged. After all the excitement of chasing down Thalassa, he was feeling a bit exhausted. Not to mention, his throat was feeling a bit raspy—he hadn't done his Chords of Steel workout in weeks, since he'd been scolded for yelling too loudly in court that one time. He took a swig of juice, thankful for the cool sensation.

After a glance to make sure the two women were absorbed in the divided box, Nick slid over so that he could take Apollo's hand in his. "Is something wrong?" His voice was almost a whisper, so as not to disturb the two women.

"I'm tired," he replied, just as quietly. "And I still have so many questions, but I don't know if I can . . . or even if I _should_ ask. I mean . . ."

Phoenix tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "That's not the Apollo I know. You'd lose every case if you let the details slide all the time."

"Nick, what did I say about all the court metaphors?"

"I still don't see how this is different, Polly. Think of Thalassa like a star witness—the only one who can shed some light on what really happened. You obviously don't want to press so hard she breaks, but you can't afford to let any shred of evidence or motive escape, because it may be that one thing that cracks the case and makes everything clear."

"Mr. Wright is correct," the soft, clear voice startled Apollo. He'd been so wrapped up in listening to Phoenix' advice that he hadn't noticed Thalassa coming to stand in front of him. She sat on the coffee table so that he could see her without straining. "Please, Apollo . . . may I call you that?"

"Um, sure. I mean, it's my name . . . uh, right? I mean, I just realized I never asked if I came to the orphanage with it or not."

"Yes, we named you Apollo," her voice sounded sad. "I fell in love rather early, I'm afraid, though looking back, I'm not sure it was entirely mutual. When he died, it felt like the end of the world. I was only a couple of years older than Trucy."

Apollo took a deep breath, "Is—is that why you decided to . . ." Dammit, he couldn't quite bring himself to say it.

She had the grace to look ashamed. "I—I really didn't intend to, at first. But I had nowhere to go, and my father, he . . . he told me that giving you up would be the only way to return to the troupe. That it would be better for you than being dragged around the country. And I . . . well, I know he considered me to have disgraced the troupe, and him. I let him convince me. I'm sorry." Her head bowed, and Apollo could see her trying to keep her composure. "I thought of you, I swear. Especially after Trucy was born. I asked Father if . . . but he said you'd already been adopted out."

"That's a lie!" Apollo objected without thinking.

"I know that now. I should have known then. I'm sorry. And . . . I know it may not seem like it, but I _can_ understand how you feel."

Trucy, who'd been standing by Phoenix, stamped her foot childishly. "_How?_ How could you know what it's like to be abandoned?"

Thalassa's hands were clenched into fists on her lap, and Apollo noted again that she was wearing the twin to his bracelet. He wondered if hers ever hurt her, too. "You must remember, Trucy, that I woke up in Borginia, not knowing who I was. It wasn't until my memory returned that I realized that my own father had covered up my death. He didn't just send me away, _he told everyone that I had died._" Tears slid down her face. "After everything I did to gain his approval, from giving up my son, to marrying Shadi, to devoting my life to his dream, he still got rid of me when it was to his advantage to do so."

In spite of himself, Apollo couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her, hearing that. "It's . . . well, it's not really okay, but it all turned out that way in the end. I mean, if it weren't for all the things we went through, none of us would be the people we are today." He glanced over at Phoenix, who was smiling at him.

"That's very true. But still, today is a day for the past, isn't it? And I . . . may I ask what _did_ happen to you? Please? Your fate has hung very heavily on me, before and after." She bowed a little.

Apollo shrugged. "Well, like I said, I was never adopted. I was in and out of orphanages and foster homes for a while." He decided to skim over as much as he could. "Um, when I was sixteen, I met a really awesome youth counselor, who'd been in the system too, and he convinced me that the best way to show everyone that they were wrong about kids like me was to really throw myself into my studies, get good grades, and get a degree in something prestigious that would allow me to rub people's noses in the fact that I broke the bell curve." He grinned fondly at the memory. "So I did. In my last couple of years of high school, I did a lot of dual credit courses, and had a head start on my college degree. I'd already decided I wanted to be a lawyer because of Phoenix."

"Mr. Wright . . ." Thalassa was looking at them both strangely. "I'm sorry, but when we met, you said you'd only known my son for a short time." Her voice made it a question, and Apollo couldn't help but Percieve that she was glancing down at their hands, still clasped around each other.

'_Ohshit,_' he thought reflexively, tensing. What kind of idiot _was_ he today, that he'd gone from completely hidden—even locked—into the closet, and now the two most important people in his life knew? And his—his _mother!_

Phoenix wasn't answering the question, instead he was looking at Apollo appraisingly. Apollo was already blushing, but he took a deep breath to settle himself, and replied honestly, "I've known Phoenix for about a year now, but I knew _of_ him back when I was younger. He was disbarred when I was fifteen, but while he was a lawyer, he helped a friend of mine. So, that's why I wanted to be an attorney. It really was incredible luck that Phoenix and I met for real. If I'd never accepted Mr. Gavin's apprenticeship offer, I might not have. So I think things worked out okay."

"That's the spirit, Apollo," the man said, beaming in that way that always made Apollo's stomach do flips.

He couldn't help but grin back, "Though I'll admit, I like being Apollo Justice. Apollo Doe was just embarrassing."

Trucy giggled, "Doe? Because they didn't know your last name?"

"Exactly. I didn't get to pick my own last name until I became an adult."

"Wait, you _chose_ Justice as a last name?"

"Shut up, Flaming Bird Boy."

". . . But my _parents _named me Phoenix. You _picked_ Justice!"

"What's your point, Wright? At least it means something to me—"

"GUYS!" Trucy butted in.

Both of them blushed when they realized they'd been bickering in front of the other two. "Sorry, Trucy," they replied.

A second later, someone's stomach growled, so the foursome decided to move things to the diner down the street. Apollo and (mostly) Trucy shared stories of growing up, and Thalassa shared snippets of her life as Lamiroir, including more about her companion, Machi. Phoenix was fairly quiet beside Apollo on their side of the booth, but both of the ex-orphans felt a great deal more comfortable with him there.

Finally, the restaurant closed down for the night, and Thalassa bid them goodnight before heading back to the Gatewater ahead of them. Phoenix, Apollo, and Trucy dawdled behind, slowly winding through the streets towards Apollo's apartment.

"You _suuure_ you don't want to come back home with us, Polly?" Trucy wheedled.

Apollo couldn't help but laugh at her tone, "_Yes_, Trucy! This is my only spare suit. I've got to get the lot of them to the cleaners, do the rest of my laundry, clean up around the place, do errands—you know, grown-up stuff." She gave an epic pout, and he felt a terrible need to poke her in the ribs, just to make her giggle.

"EEK! POLLY!" She slapped at him, forcing him to dodge around Phoenix to hide.

"Making up for lost time, are you?" Phoenix teased, sounding genuinely amused.

Trucy jumped at the opportunity. "_Daddy_! Apollo's being a mean big brother!"

Even as he laughed, Apollo couldn't help the euphoria that seeped into his very bones, making him feel lighter. _Big brother._ Those were words he'd never thought he'd hear. Not from anyone.

"You're on your own, Trucy. I'm an only child. You've got to figure this one out by yourself." Phoenix stopped walking, causing Apollo to nearly bump into him. "Well, this is where you get off, Apollo."

Sure enough, they'd reached his building. He gave a little wave. "I'll be by tomorrow on the way to the dry cleaner's, okay Trucy? I'll pick up yesterday's suit, and then maybe we can go do something fun together. Sound good?"

To his surprise, Trucy didn't answer right away. Instead, she came forward and wrapped him in a sudden hug. He managed to swallow his sound of surprise and just hug her back, not missing the look of pleasure on Phoenix's face. How long had he been waiting for the two of them to be as close as siblings?

With one last squeeze, Trucy backed off. "Thanks, Polly!"

"Huh?"

"You're not so prickly as you used to be." She impulsively grabbed her daddy around the waist as well. "And _you're _not as cranky, either. I think you're really good for each other."

Phoenix actually blushed at Trucy's sly grin. "Uh, that's—er, Trucy-"

"In fact, I _really_ think you two should spend more time together!" Suddenly, she gave Phoenix a shove, right into Apollo.

The smaller man barely managed to keep them both upright, "Trucy! What was that for?" he scolded.

The girl was slowly backing away down the sidewalk. "I think you and Daddy need to talk. Or something. So I'm kicking Daddy out of the Agency for the night."

"Oh really?" drawled Phoenix, his tone torn between amused and annoyed.

"Really. In fact, I think you've got no other choice!" Trucy beamed at she presented two familiar sets of keys—both for the office. And both certainly freshly pickpocketed off of their persons.

Both men reflexively checked their pockets, swearing in near unison. By the time they'd looked back up, Trucy had already taken off running, her cape flapping dramatically behind her.

"Dammit, Trucy!" Apollo swore again. He raised his voice, "Your disappearing act _sucks, _by the way!"

Phoenix chuckled. "That's not the first time I've been presented with a fleeing Gramarye. Probably won't be the last."

Apollo blushed a little, "Well, _I_ won't run. Not now, anyway. So, um . . ." He could feel himself turning red, and cursed his natural shyness. "Uh, d-do you want to . . . I mean, since you're going to be locked out and all . . ." Once again, he found himself begging the earth to swallow him up.

To his credit, Phoenix didn't laugh at him, though he smiled gently as he casually brushed his fingers across a warm cheek, "I'd love to."

TBC?

* * *

A/N: Whew. This was difficult to write, but it felt good to get all of that out in the open. I hated at the end of the game, how they just _left_ Trucy and Apollo completely clueless.

Question: Do I end this fic here, or do I continue? I can't really decide whether I want to add something citrus-y on to this—it seems to wrap up so nicely here. Send me a review or a PM and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Holy cow, this took a long time to write. Seriously. I think I averaged a sentence a day. First of all, this is the third edition, because my computer kept eating the files. And the **first** version, I'd worked on for the longest time, so losing it was pretty devastating.

And even more annoying, was getting stuck **here**, and having oodles of inspiration for the rest of the series—I literally have about ten more chapters well in the works after this one, which leads me to a question:

Would y'all mind me posting chapters out of order, so long as I kept a master (chronological) list on my profile page? I have a poll on my profile page now so that y'all can give your opinions on the subject, so please, vote today!

Now, onto the fic itself. As usual, I don't own the Ace Attorney series. Also, this chapter is rated M, for Mature content. If yaoi squicks you . . . well, how'd you get this far anyway?

* * *

**Just Another Truth, Wright—Chapter 4**

"I'd bet my whole hand Kristoph did the decorating," Phoenix announced within two seconds of entering Apollo's living room.

Apollo finished locking the door, and glanced around, bewildered. Yes, he was right, but there was no sign of Kristoph in the room. The entire decor was done in warm colors, predominantly red; the furniture was all simple and functional. There wasn't any purple, lace, dark wood, doilies, flowers, or a single whiff of any of that wretched potpourri or incense about, so . . . "How did you know?"

Phoenix smirked as he casually plopped himself on the couch, "Because I was your age once, and _no one_ has this nice of furniture right out of college. My own boss, Mia, did the same thing when she saw how I was living. Let me guess: a mattress on the floor, and the TV on top of a milk crate?"

Apollo sniffed disdainfully, loosening his tie so that he could slip it over his head and hang it on the rack next to his keys. "Hardly. I couldn't afford a TV, so my law books went in the crate." He sat next to Phoenix and felt comfortable enough to snuggle close. He was rewarded with a warm smile and an even warmer arm around his shoulders.

"Hmm, that's pretty smart. Maybe I should have tried that, instead of stacking them on the floor. When Mia saw I was using mine as an end table, I thought she was going to smack me. She has this thing about books."

"Had, you mean?"

"Nope, has. She's still around."

Apollo's brow furrowed, "Wait, wait. Wasn't Mia Fey's murder your second case?"

"You know, if I didn't only have a few years' worth of cases under my belt, I'd probably be creeped out by now. Yes, she was murdered, but surely you've heard of my assistant?"

"Maya Fey, the . . . spirit medium?"

"Mm-hm. Maya had a tendency to channel Mia whenever I really needed help. The two of them helped save a lot of people."

"She . . _channeled_ . . . your dead boss." Apollo couldn't quite keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"I know, it sounds crazy, but that's not even the craziest thing I've ever come across. If you ever get to meet Maya, I bet I could get her to introduce you to Mia. I think you'd really like each other."

"Where is Maya now?"

"In Kurain Village. She's the Master there. She's got her cousin Pearl, though, so she's not alone . . ."

The slightly forlorn expression on Phoenix's face prompted Apollo to reach over and twine their fingers together. "As corny as it is, you're not either, you know."

That got a grin. "Yeah, things are really looking up these days," he teased, poking at Apollo's spikes.

Apollo stuck his tongue out, feeling a little silly but not caring. After all, Nick was the only one there to see.

Phoenix gave a brief laugh, then pulled Apollo into a kiss, which he willingly gave, even scooting up to climb onto his lap. Apollo cupped the sides of Phoenix's face briefly before pushing his hat off so that he could thread his fingers through the older man's spikes. Large hands stroked his back before moving around to his front. They broke the kiss long enough for Apollo to shrug off his vest, and he couldn't help but snicker as Phoenix eyed his shirt buttons with clear annoyance.

"You _do_ realize you'll be back in a suit once you're a lawyer again, right?"

The older man actually scowled, "Damn. And then it'll take even longer to get the both of us out of our clothes."

"You know, you've got a hoodie, a T-shirt, _and_ an undershirt. I don't think you're in a position to be complaining," Apollo reminded him, tugging down the zipper of said hoodie. "On the plus side, though, it'll mean you'll have to keep your hands to yourself during work hours."

"That's a plus? That really hurts, 'Pollo!" Phoenix's pout was totally ruined by the laughter in his voice. For all his complaining, he had Apollo's buttons opened faster than their owner could blink.

Apollo couldn't hold back a whimper as those clever hands slid over his stomach and chest. It didn't take long after that for both of them to get impatient, tugging at clothes until they were both stripped to the waist, Apollo's fingers buried in Phoenix's hair as the other shifted so that they could stretch out over the couch.

It took a few minutes to gather his thoughts into some semblance of order, but eventually Apollo nudged Phoenix to grab his attention, "Um, you know, I've got an actual bed."

Oh God, he could _feel _Phoenix's arousal spike, even see the flush on his cheeks dial up a notch, his pupils already wide. Apollo couldn't help but feel a thrill that Phoenix wanted him that much. Still, that didn't stop the older man from pushing up and asking, "Are you sure, Polly? I can wait if-"

Apollo snorted in amusement. "Nick, I'm not a freaking girl." He gently bucked up against Phoenix to prove his point, sparking a gasp and making a large hand tighten on his hip. "It's not like I'm holding out for a dowry, trust me. I _want_ you." He sat up, pushing Phoenix along, "However, I'm pretty sure it'll work out better if we're actually _in_ the bedroom."

"Well, I'll defer to the expert, then," the tone was gently teasing, but it was enough to make Apollo blush furiously, even as he was dragging Phoenix into his room. Phoenix snickered again as he caught sight of the bedroom, and it's predominantly red theme, and was given a rough shove towards the unmade bed for his efforts.

As enthusiastic as he was, Apollo could hardly keep up with the other once his back hit the bedsheets. Just about the time he thought he had a handle on all the heated kisses, the brush of their chests, suddenly Phoenix's hands would dip below his waist to open his belt and pants, and he'd _swear_ that the bed had just dropped out from beneath him, leaving him clinging to the man above him.

Phoenix pulled back suddenly, looking at him critically, "We're going to need you to relax a bit."

Relax? He was supposed to _relax_ while—Apollo threw his head back with a groan as a large hand dipped inside his boxers. "Ohhh_hhh, fuck_," he gasped.

"In a bit," Phoenix agreed, a smirk playing around his lips, "But I want you to come first."

Just _hearing_ it almost made it happen, and his hips bucked upward, his balls tightened—just as Phoenix let go. Apollo might have been embarrassed by the strangled noise that escaped him, but he was too bewildered by the sudden loss of contact to give a flying fuck. "Nick, dammit!"

"Sorry," Phoenix said, obviously not meaning a syllable of it. "Just want to get you undressed first." He grabbed Apollo's pants and gave them a firm tug, pulling both pants and boxers down at the same time.

Apollo couldn't decide whether to blush and try to hide—_no one_ had seen him completely unclothed like this before, and it was slightly terrifying—or jump Phoenix's bones and riding him like a pony till they came. Phoenix was kind enough to even the odds, and before he knew it, they were both naked together for the first time. They kissed, both humming desperately as their bodies slid against each other.

The older man pulled away first, panting hard, "Fuck fuck fuck. Dammit, you're making me lose my head-"

"_I'm _making _you?" _Apollo asked incredulously.

"_Yes, _now stay right there and let me make you come," he replied sternly. It might have made Apollo laugh if not for Phoenix immediately dropping his head and taking Apollo's length into his mouth.

Apollo's brain _melted_. Even having experienced Phoenix sucking him off the night before hadn't lessened the impact of it on iota, and only firm hands on his hips kept them from bucking off the bed. Phoenix played him like a damn instrument: Apollo whined when he felt a hot tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, _groaned_ whenever Phoenix bobbed his head to take it in deeper, and couldn't stop swearing desperately whenever he sucked extra hard at the head. It could have been minutes or seconds, he didn't know or care, but Apollo finally twisted his hands in the bedsheets and _howled_ in pleasure as he came in Phoenix's mouth.

Eventually, his body spiraled back down and he slumped back on the mattress, gasping breaths slowly easing as he tried to pull himself together again despite the ringing in his ears and the difficulty of focusing his eyes. He felt so _relaxed_, like he'd just worked out years' worth of stress and worry at once. He managed a smile though, as Phoenix's face came into view.

"Still with me, Polly?" he heard fuzzily. He nodded, still too out of it to try forming a coherent sentence. Phoenix didn't seem to mind, just brushed his bangs out of his face. "Damn, I just want to keep you, make you look like that forever."

Apollo managed an appreciative noise. _He_ had no objections.

"Hey, d'you still . . . um."

Hey, that was odd—Phoenix was never the one to blush; that was Apollo's job! Finally, Apollo's brain kicked in a little, registering the tension in his lover's face, and remembering just what they were supposed to be doing, big-picture-wise. Summoning up his strength, he grabbed for Phoenix and pulled him down for a quick kiss before whispering, "Oh _please_, Nick."

Phoenix's relieved sigh felt good against his hot face, "Thank God. Do you have any lube or lotion around here?"

Thinking idly that it was a good thing he'd waited until Apollo was mindless goo _before_ asking, the usually shy man weakly flung his hand in the direction of his nightstand, pointing. He ignored the snickering as Phoenix rummaged around for a moment before coming up with a small lotion bottle.

"I was going to remind you to relax, but at this point, if you relax any further, you might just die," he commented.

Apollo attempted a glare, but was distracted quickly by a slick finger at his entrance. He opened his mouth, maybe to protest, maybe just to attempt sarcasm, but Phoenix grabbed the opportunity to lean in for more distracting kisses. For all that the older man was nearly shaking with impatience, he took it slow, introducing one digit at a time, gradually working Apollo open. Apollo was still relatively boneless, but quickly felt himself reviving as Phoenix's touch sparked across nerve endings that he'd been previously unfamiliar with. By the time they'd worked up to two fingers, Apollo was moaning and pushing back against Phoenix's hand.

"Nick, Nick, oh _God_ now please, I want you—_ah! _ I want you in me, please—oh—_Phoenix_," Apollo babbled, arching his back when fingertips brushed against his prostate. He ran his hands over any part of Phoenix he could reach, loving the way the older man sucked in a hissing breath when Apollo brushed over his nipples.

Phoenix finally batted his hands away gently, with a mock-stern glare, "Quit rushing me, Polly." Before he could argue further, a third finger was added, and Apollo took a huge gulp of air. "Does that hurt?"

Apollo bit his lip, slowly breathing out, trying to relax himself further. "Kinda. Just give me a second." A couple more deep breaths, and he had loosened enough for Phoenix to move his hand, and a couple more, and he was quietly moaning again. He was starting to push back, writhing against Phoenix, when the fingers disappeared altogether.

Apollo watched a little nervously as Phoenix quickly slicked himself up, and the moment of truth arrived. Nick gave him a little nod, "Deep breath, Polly."

Obediently, he inhaled, then slowly exhaled as the blunt head of Phoenix's cock slid through the initial resistance. He couldn't help but flinch a little at the steady pressure, but he'd been prepped so well that the discomfort was fairly easily ignored for the opportunity to watch Phoenix above him. He was obviously reigning himself in with difficulty, and Apollo shivered in excitement at being the focus of those intense, dark eyes.

Phoenix gave him a few seconds, then started slowly moving, and Apollo quickly felt his arousal—slightly dampened earlier by discomfort—make a full turnabout. Before long, he was back to clutching at the older man, groaning loudly.

As the pleasure quickly mounted, Apollo was barely aware that he was saying something—or maybe moaning—his focus was entirely overtaken by overwhelming sensation. As he rapidly approached his second climax, he felt a hand clamp over his mouth, and opened his eyes enough to see Phoenix grinning widely, looking like he was trying _very_ hard not to laugh. He might have protested, but Phoenix grabbed one of his hands and pulled it down to wrap around his own length, encouraging him to stroke himself. Phoenix then grabbed one of Apollo's knees and pushed it up towards his chest, deepening the angle of his thrusts.

Oh _god, _it felt _so_ good and _so_ deep and he was going to come _so _much harder than he'd ever come before he was going to _die from it, ohGodohGOD—_Apollo screamed against Phoenix's hand as he went over the edge. He felt the corners of his vision go sparkly and dark at the same time and realized he probably wasn't getting enough air. Luckily, just as Apollo slumped back against the bed, Phoenix dropped his hand to Apollo's shoulder to grip tightly. Apollo could only watch in dazed, twitterpated post-orgasmic adoration as Phoenix gave a final groan and lost himself in Apollo's body.

For a minute or so, they just lay there, enjoying the feel of each other as they caught their breath. Finally, Phoenix made a colossal effort and slid to the side. Apollo turned a little so they could face each other, lazily reaching over to run his fingers through sweaty spikes. Phoenix hummed appreciatively, pushing into the caress like a big cat.

Apollo's eyelids felt _so_ heavy, and he was more than ready to fall asleep when Phoenix broke out into quiet laughter, prompting Apollo to blush, "What?" Phoenix sniggering only got stronger, though he tried to muffle it. Apollo's afterglow started being overtaken by nerves. "W-was I—did I do something-"

"Oh, _no, _nononono," Phoenix hastened to say, managing to quell his amusement, aside from an evil grin. "It's just . . . didn't you hear the banging?"

"B-banging?"

"From upstairs. That's why I covered your mouth—that, and I'm kind of fond of my own eardrums."

Apollo just stared, blinking for a moment—then remembered that his upstairs neighbor was a little old lady who'd previously considered him 'such a sweet young man,' and brought him cookies—and now probably thought he was some sort of deviant. Phoenix burst out laughing again at his horrified expression.

Apollo couldn't decide if he want to smother his lover with a pillow, or himself.

* * *

Much later, after a shower (complete with Apollo's introduction to shower sex), changing the sheets, and hunting down a pair of sweat pants long enough for his boss to wear, Phoenix decided he was hungry, so the two settled into the living room so that they could order in some wings and watch a movie. Well, it _would _have been a movie, but-

"Apollo, you have _every season _of _Perry Mason?_"

Apollo tried unsuccessfully to hide his blush, "And?"

"I freaking _love this show!_" A moment later, the DVD player was on, and Phoenix was all but bouncing next to Apollo on the couch.

"Wait, I thought you were more the _Steel Samurai _type."

"Not really—that's all Maya's doing. If I don't keep up, there are horrible consequences. This is much more my style—how many episodes do you think we can get in tonight?"

Apollo couldn't help but eye Phoenix with some envy, "Holy crap, Nick, aren't you tired at all?" Hell, he was barely upright, and that was only thanks to the couch.

"You'll get used to it. I promise." Phoenix's grin was absolutely _wicked. _"Besides, how can I not be excited? It's _Perry Mason_! Plus, Raymond Burr is hot."

The younger man 'hmmed' thoughtfully. "I guess so. I prefer Paul Drake, myself. William Hopper looks _damn_ good for his age."

"Oh _really_," Phoenix teased, "So I take it this thing you've got for older guys isn't really a new development? And here I thought I was just special."

Apollo rolled his eyes, "You're special, all right." The doorbell rang, and he quickly grabbed his wallet off the coffee table and went to answer it. A few minutes later, he was back with their order of wings and the two of them snuggled into the couch.

A couple of episodes later, Apollo was licking his fingers free of sauce, and thinking. "Hey, Nick?"

Silence.

He glanced over, and saw Phoenix's eyes staring at Apollo's now-clean fingers, slightly glazed. "Hey! Nick!"

Phoenix shook his head, snapping out of it. "Uh, yeah, sorry. What's up?"

Apollo stared hard at the TV, afraid to really look at his lover. "Um. You and me. Are we . . . I mean, are we a . . . a secret?"

He could feel Phoenix sit up, could feel him stare. "What? Why would we . . . Polly, look at me. Where's this coming from?"

Apollo turned towards Phoenix, but couldn't quite bring himself to meet his eyes. "Well, it would look bad for you to be . . . um, _with_ you're subordinate, wouldn't it? I mean, technically, you're my boss, and I'd understand if—and then there's me being a guy, which I imagine some people—especially clients—won't really be okay with-" He was cut off by gentle fingers tilting his face upward to see Phoenix's very dark, very serious eyes.

"Apollo Justice. That is absolutely untrue," he said, so firm and confident he didn't even cause a tremor in Apollo's bracelet. "I don't give a damn if people know we're together. And as for you being in my employ—I'd rather be partners, if it's all the same to you. As it is, I'm still not ready to retake the bar, and it's hardly fair to keep your name off the sign when you're doing all the work. So no, we're not a secret. Okay?"

Apollo was hard pressed not to start grinning like an idiot, "Okay."

And just like that, in true guy fashion, everything was awesome again, and they went back to their _Perry Mason_ marathon, while idly discussing how much they wished that their cases went half so smoothly.

FIN?

* * *

A/N: I should probably also mention here that no, I don't own_ Perry Mason_, either. And that the show is REALLY FREAKING AWESOME, and if you enjoy the Ace Attorney series, you should totally watch this show. What Phoenix and Apollo need around the office is a private investigator like Paul Drake—imagine how much smoother things would go . . .

Also, Lt. Tragg is an orangutan. Seriously—look at his mouth when he smiles. He's also the Devil. I don't even hate Burger as much as I do Tragg.

Speaking of Burger-HAMILTON BURGER? Holy shit, the lawyerly pun game dates back to the fifties? First time I heard his name I Winston Payne. *is bricked* Yeah, yeah, sorry, I'm outta here...

Don't forget to vote in my poll!


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